Broken Hearts and Crushed Spirits
26 May

Broken Hearts and Crushed Spirits


Summer  mornings on Tybee. Warm yellow and pink hues bounce off of my walls on the mornings I sleep in past 7:05. Placing each foot on the floor as I fumble to find my glasses. Rich coffee aroma, draws me into the open living room/dining room/kitchen of our little apartment. I never regret taking time to set up the coffee pot the night before. Grabbing a favorite hand thrown pottery mug from the space saving hooks over the kitchen sink, I pour my first cup.

Opening the front door I feel the warm humid air caress my skin, a contrast to the chilly conditioned air from inside. I step onto our deck, my eyes are immediately drawn to the ocean just yards away, beyond the dunes.  Diamonds are sprinkled from the horizon to the sugar shores. My senses awaken as salt air touches my skin and fills my lungs. Blue skies above with brushes of pink, orange and yellow clouds scattered from north to south.

I settle down into my new Adirondack chair we purchased from the hardware store on the next island over. Not plush by any means, but the simplicity that our ocean home offers meets my needs, emotionally and spiritually.

I scroll through my phone and catch up on what friends and family have posted on Facebook through the night and wee hours of the morning. Photos of family holiday gatherings, goodbyes and farewells to dear beloveds that lost their lives this weekend. Celebrations and sadness each time I swipe my finger across the smooth glass. Reminders of how precious this life is and each moment we have with each other. Faces of those I love flash before me and I give thanks and gratitude for each of them.

Our home is still quiet as the school routines for the year have finished. The girls are enjoying their morning as they sleep in with not a care till noon.

Within an hour I hear the loudest leaf blowers and weed wackers ever as the make their way from the public parking lot down the street in an effort to keep our island beautiful. Next will be the giant street sweeper vacuum that will suck cigarette butts and stray sand from 14th Street. The crew puts in extra hours as their workload has been increased ten fold from careless tourists that leave behind their trash through the spring and summer months. After about thirty minutes, the loud noises fade as they creep their way across the three mile island.

My head and heart are filled with with both heavy thoughts and light hearted fun from the weekend. Both existing at the same time in the same place. Knowing I have a choice to make today. This decision will affect the rest of my day. There are times when just making a choice of how to posture your heart can be the hardest decision. Taking hope from words I have read this morning, I make a choice to place my trust in God who will heal those with broken hearts and save those who are crushed in spirit.



  1. Wen, I feel like you wrote this to me. I feel like I’m recovering, then when the tears come I know I still have a long way to go. I choose to be happy, even when I’m sad…so on we go.

    1. Pamela,
      I have had words encourage me during times of healing and recovery. Times I could not speak the words myself, but receiving them from others. Hugs to you in your journey and healing. xoxo

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